


A Kiss is Never Just a Kiss

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6430291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it happened was an accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss is Never Just a Kiss

The first time it happened was an accident.

Well, accident implies that there was no forethought, no action on my part, that things were so out of control that there was no other option available. Accident in the legal sense of the word means an unintended or unexpected occurrence which produces a hurt or loss. Neither was the case here. At least, no, neither was the case here.

It's just, when you're dealing with river goddesses and especially when you're dealing with river goddesses and alcohol, unexpected occurrences are not really that unexpected.

Like their insistence that you not be allowed to leave the premises until you give your boss a kiss.

Surprisingly it wasn't Lady Ty who had that sterling idea, she wasn't even there. It was one of her sisters, I wasn't clear on which one exactly came up with the plan or if they all came to the decision together (excluding Bev, for obvious reasons) but the gist was this, we couldn't leave unless kissing ensued.

Nightingale wasn't amused. Nor, though, did he seem particularly surprised and I filed that away for later reference. Had the rivers made him do something like this before? Was that why he'd been so reluctant to attend this function in the first place, and then accepted with the kind of resigned sigh that had put me on edge all evening?

So, accident, no. Not entirely.

It's just, I was so surprised that I turned to Nightingale to say something in my head I was hoping was going to be the perfect way to make it obvious that this was not going to happen, when I realised how close I was standing to him and then well, a kiss just sort of happened.

Accidentally.

Nightingale didn't look surprised.

Another question to add to the list.

* * * * *

The second time it happened I want it to be abundantly, categorically clear that I was not drunk. I think we've established that I don't drink. Not to excess anyway. What with my dad and the whole being one of only two coppers in the department thing we had going on, with me being the one that always got called out in the early hours while my boss had a nice lie in.

So, not drunk.

Just...magically inebriated, as Dr Walid put it when I eventually got some medical assistance.

Much to Nightingale's disgust a chemistry teacher in Hounslow was doing a bit of drug selling to supplement his income. Only he wasn't lacing it with the usual – detergent, rat poison, industrial strength bleach – but with some sort of magically induced compound that the good doctor was enjoying researching to a really quite alarming extent.

And when I went to arrest him, said teacher's first move was to blow a bunch of the stuff in my face. The second was to stay still against a wall while I handcuffed and cautioned him.

I didn't even notice that anything was off at first, though I did report my exposure to an unknown substance of Falcon origin to the appropriate people and had to debrief the Hazardous Material and Environmental Protection Officers from the London Fire Brigade _and_ undergo a whole barrage of decontamination procedures before I was finally allowed to go back to the Folly.

Which is when the trouble really started.

Because the minute I got back and saw Nightingale in one of the suits that best brought out his eyes I was marching over to him and kissing him like my life depended on it.

If my governor were a different kind of man I'd probably have got punched first, kicked off the force second. As it was he just gently moved me to arm's length and very calmly said, “tea, I think Molly, with lots of sugar,” and then escorted me to the kitchen.

I still have nightmares about what would have happened if I'd ended up kissing Seawoll. Or worse, Stephanopoulos.

* * * * *

The third time it happened needs no explanation.

Well, okay, _mistletoe._

* * * * *

The fourth time it happened Nightingale and I were undercover in a Soho club, a scenario that hadn't been our idea. In fact I was rather under the impression that Seawoll was exacting some sort of revenge on us. Can’t imagine for what.

As it was the suspect was a bit too clever for his own good and had installed some nifty little demon traps around the safe where we were hoping he was keeping evidence he'd been involved in a drowning in the Thames. Not a problem for Nightingale, but getting inside the room did require us to look like we were sneaking off to the toilets to engage in something more erotically charged than looking around the owner's office.

This resulted in me saying, “we should...” and waving my hands between us and Nightingale replying, “I suppose so,” before I kissed him to stop my disappointment showing and dragged him out the back towards the toilets and then on to the office. Not that I had any reason to be disappointed about anything. It’s just...well, you kiss someone often enough you kind of start hoping that they'll kiss you back.

But Nightingale is nothing but professional.

We got the evidence we needed and nobody asked us how we did it.

They didn't have to.

* * * * *

The fifth time it happened, I knew exactly what I was doing.

It had been a long day in a long week in an even longer month. I was wrung out and aching from having an ethically challenged practitioner throwing me against a wall and then try to strangle me. Thankfully Sahra Guleed showed up just in time to smack him in the legs with her baton and Nightingale got him in some magical handcuffs before he could turn on her. All in all a well coordinated operation that highlighted the efficient way the Falcon and non-Falcon arms of the Met now worked together to maintain the Queen's peace on the streets of London.

And I was _done._

By some miracle I was finished with my paperwork before Nightingale got done doing whatever it is he does when I do all his paperwork for him and I ended up being first back at the Folly. Molly had put on a small spread (small being a relative term where she's concerned) in anticipation of our return and I found that I was actually pretty hungry.

I managed a couple of sandwiches and a cup of tea before I heard the door open and Nightingale arrive back home.

I didn’t say anything when he walked into the room, I just crowded him up against the wall and kissed him.

Then I went upstairs to bed.

* * * * *

It was raining when Nightingale finally came to talk to me. Worst storm of the decade the news was calling it, though by morning that would prove to have been an exaggeration. I was sitting on the top of the steps to the tech cave just, looking really, staring out at nothing, enjoying a little downtime. It was warm inside, with all the tech running, and outside in the rain it was cool.

I hadn't seen Nightingale for a day or two. I don't know where he went but I gathered from Molly that he wasn't to be disturbed, wherever it was he'd holed himself up. Not that I had any plans to disturb him. Any conversation that I had to have with Nightingale could wait till hell froze over as far as I was concerned.

Naturally I spotted him heading towards me just as I was beginning to think I'd make it another day without having to face up to what I'd done.

Kissing a senior officer is not a great idea. It is especially not a great idea when there are only two of you in the department and you don't have the excuse of being drugged out of your mind to fall back on.

My only hope was that Nightingale had never been on any sexual harassment training.

Probably.

“Peter,” Nightingale said in way of greeting, and sat down next to me.

“Sir,” I said, hoping a bit of professional distance might veer him off track.

Some chance of that.

“I feel I owe you an apology.”

That was unexpected and my expression must have said as much because that's what made him frown and look uncertain.

“I kissed you,” I said, because in for a penny. “You didn't even react.”

“No,” Nightingale replied. “Perhaps if I had you might have stopped.”

“I don't think I would have,” I replied, because I really, really wouldn't.

Nightingale looked over at his car, rather than at me. “It may surprise you to learn that this is not the first time a conversation of this sort has taken place in the Folly. Though not for quite some time.”

“You...?” I asked cautiously. You never knew with Nightingale whether a story about his past was going to end up with lots of people dead. Well, okay, you probably did.

The answer's nine times out of ten.

“I developed something of an...infatuation...with one of my teachers,” he said, surprising me. “I was young, younger than you, but that's not really an excuse. I knew better. I was, lonely I suppose and he was convenient and not unattractive...”

“No,” I interrupted, “no, that's not, that's not what this is.”

“I'm sure it's not exactly the same...”

“It isn't anything like the same,” I said. And suddenly I didn't care how mortifying this conversation was going to get, I just didn't want him to think that he was just a warm body that happened to be there when I wanted someone to kiss. “I _wanted_ you to kiss me back. Every time. _You._ ” I put my hand on his knee and squeezed. “If this was just sex I wouldn't come to you. I'd pick up a girl in a bar and buy her breakfast in the morning. But I want more than that. I want more than that with you.”

Nightingale closed his eyes but I noticed he didn’t try to shake my hand off, which was probably a good sign.

“I know there are a hundred reasons why we shouldn't do this, but I trust you. And I need you to trust me.”

“It isn't a matter of trust,” Nightingale said, eyes still closed.

“Yes, it is,” I said, not noticing that I'd started to whisper until later, when I played the conversation back in my head.

Nightingale turned to me then and I just looked at him. Took in the way his gaze strayed to my mouth, how he turned towards me, just a little, how uncertain he looked just before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

Fireworks didn't go off, the earth didn't move, but everything had changed.

“You're sure,” he said, pulling back just a fraction and I nodded but didn't move towards him. This had to be his decision now, I couldn't leap any further.

“It's not unheard of, coppers getting involved,” I said, because like it had been since the day I was born my brain to mouth filter was still stuck on trying to sabotage my happiness.

“We're not going to hide this,” Nightingale said, another surprise. “Agreed?”

I nodded, of course, because Nightingale had that determined look in his eye that meant decision made and nothing and no-one was going to steer him off course. And then he was kissing me, just like I'd wanted him to kiss me the first time, hands moving to either side of my face and cupping my jaw and drawing me close. I'd found his level of focus terrifying before but now it just had me instantly hard and wondering if Nightingale was a sex on the first date kind of person.

He wasn't.

But the kissing more than made up for it.  



End file.
